Resolution
by ReynardFox
Summary: The Force Unleashed II: After delivering Vader to his Rebel captors on Dantooine, Juno and a freshly-returned Starkiller reflect on the tumult of the past weeks, and on life, love, and survival. Not all chaos is such a terrible thing, after all, when it makes right things that had gone so very wrong. Juno/Starkiller.


Author's Notes: The novelisations of _The Force Unleashed_ suggest that rumours of Galen Marek's death aboard the Death Star may have been slightly exaggerated. As far as the novels are concerned, the topic is one never quite unambiguously settled, despite a visit to the Kamino cloning facilities. By the same token, one could argue that's just wishful thinking from Kota's perspective.

Before we get going with the story, I'd like to thank author CallaLili whose story _Meditations on Natural Philosophy_ is jaw-droppingly well-written, and a great inspiration for me to want to play with this source material more. Or make me work up the nerve to write a piece of my own. I'd also like to thank author Penstrokes of Death, who put up the lovely _A Few Beautiful Things_ , which you should go read right now. Or immediately after this. Um. Yes.

I owe further massive thanks to Penstrokes of Death, who gave excellent advice in the last stages of drafting this up. Penstrokes, you are awesome!

Fan fiction is an amazing platform for exploring these "what-if" scenarios. Even if this is an unlikely conclusion, it's one I had wanted to explore since I read the novels for myself. Without further ado, please enjoy the story!

* * *

Dantooine is a lush world of blue and green, turning in its orbit beyond the _Rogue Shadow's_ viewports. White clouds scud peacefully across its surface. Captain Juno Eclipse watches them with her eyes half-open, and she's certain their tranquility is a direct mockery of the exhaustion and turmoil of the past week.

She's so tired it's almost a physical ache. She's been that way before, subsisting on stimulants and catnaps stolen in the pilot's chair during hyperspace autopilot, but there's only so much she can do.

Stimulants won't keep her alert forever and she knows it.

Juno lets a sigh hiss through her teeth, cocking a weary, red-rimmed eye toward Dantooine's clouds.

 _At least you've got the luxury of looking so tranquil_ , she thinks to herself, absently looking down and checking the data on the ship's console. _I feel more like haze that's been spread too thin across the sky._

At least her fatigue is towards a purpose, a noble one; one she can throw her full effort into in good conscience. She's fighting the good fight, carrying on the legacy that _he_ had started. How could she not be proud of that?

Then again, she decides with a stab of bitterness, she'd only been following that path because she hadn't known what else to follow. When he'd been taken from her, it was the only thing she really had left of him. Following that path was a compulsion more than anything else. She's not sure what she'd do as an alternative. Lose herself in someplace like the Vapour Room, where they'd dug up Kota, maybe.

In the end, though, she's not sure she could've done that. It would've been an insult to his memory, wouldn't it?

 _The Rebel Alliance is the only thing that would've honoured his memory. He chose to sacrifice himself for it,_ she decides, eyes lidding further. _Dantooine's calm is contagious. I wonder how much longer it'll be until the next orders are relayed—_

It takes her several seconds to realise she's not alone, to hear the sound of approaching footsteps on metal deck plating and the thump as he throws himself into the copilot's seat. She hesitates for a few seconds at the achingly familiar sounds; sounds she never thought she'd hear again, and finds herself blinking back tears.

 _Stop being stupid,_ she chides herself, blinking the tears away. She's too proud to let them fall. Instead, she offers a smile to the young man staring pensively at Dantooine's placid surface.

Her smile falters just a little when he doesn't even look in her direction.

 _He has to be tired._ I'm _tired. I'm exhausted. I don't know if there are even words for what he must be feeling..._

Juno looks down to the console, watching lights describe the narrative of Rebel traffic in and out of the area. It looks ordinary to her senses, so ordinary that it doesn't really hold her attention. Her mind wanders behind her half-hearted monitoring, to a persistent daydream of a soft bed with overstuffed pillows and a warm blanket—

"I'm fine."

She glances over at his sudden assurance, blinking and arching a brow in response to his awkward smile.

"Sorry?"

"You were about to ask if I'm alright."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Juno lets out a breath of a laugh. "It's really you. Alright, then. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Juno..."

"You should rest. You have to be tired," she points out, worried. "Have you even slept? Is something bothering you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it, actually."

Sighing, she shakes her head, reaching up to clear stray hair from her face. "You never do think things through that far. Something's bothering you. What's the matter, Galen?"

"Nothing. Really."

Juno eyes her companion, suspiciously. "It's never nothing with you. You've never done anything in half-measures, and I don't expect you to start." She softens her tone at the shadows under his eyes. They're not so different from her own, she thinks; worse, in fact. "What is it?"

"It's you."

"Me?" She glances over, brows furrowing. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"No! Never." She finds herself grinning at how quickly he protests, shaking his head and looking a little distraught. "I'm just—I'm just glad to see you again. For a while there, I was starting to think I never would. I feel like I went to the ends of the galaxy just to find you... and now we're back aboard the _Rogue Shadow_ , where everything started."

"It seems so impossible."

"I don't have any sort of explanation, and the Force isn't lending me any sudden insight, so don't even ask."

Juno laughs. It almost feels strange to do that, unfamiliar; something she hasn't done in what feels like an eternity. It feels good, though, and she does it again, unable to help herself. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"You know, I'd almost think you've gone sentimental on me."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he says dubiously. "But I know what you mean, about not thinking about it too much. The Force isn't making any sense of it, and neither can I."

"Does it even work like that?"

He shrugs. "Ask Kota. I've never been a Jedi before, and I'd never gotten any insight from the Dark Side, even though I'd tried."

"The whole affair gives me a headache. It's probably not worth the effort to try and figure out," she sighs, leaning her head back and half-closing her eyes. "I can live with some mysteries."

Companionable silence falls, measured by the ship's familiar sounds – the hum of idling engines, soft beeping from the pilot's console, the near-silent whirr of ventilation fans.

Her mind drifts as her eyes slide closed. Unbidden, the image of Timira City's cloning vats comes back to her, and she finds herself trying to reconcile it with her last memory of him before Kamino; their lips pressed together, and his graceful, backward free-fall to the Death Star.

She tries to find the discrepancies that would be present in a clone, but ultimately, she decides she's just too tired and emotionally overwrought to see them.

Is he a clone, or had he somehow survived?

The answer doesn't change anything for her, does it? Despite that, she finds herself curious.

He even _smells_ the same.

What are the odds...?

When she finally straightens, though, there's no denying how exhausted she really is. _A short nap won't hurt_ , she reasons with herself. _The senators and Kota are going to be busy with Vader for a few hours yet. I should have enough time to get back to the cockpit before they call_...

"Galen," she murmurs.

"I'm fine. Really." His answer is automatic; not quite defensive, but nearly there. To her, it's confirmation that something _is_ bothering him beyond the scope of her own well-being.

"Not that." She laughs, shaking her head as she keys in a series of commands to the console. Standing, she stretches, unable to stifle her yawn. "I was just going to tell you that I'm activating the autopilot systems, and sending the ship to a less crowded orbit. I'm going to get some rest. I'm exhausted."

"You go ahead, Juno." Even as she watches him, his gaze is already sliding back to the viewport, watching Dantooine turn in its unhurried orbit. "I'll watch the ship for a little while longer."

She pauses at the threshold of the cockpit, glancing back over her shoulder. _You should get some rest, too_ , but she can't bring herself to say the words. He looks thoughtful, as though he's latched onto something terribly important. _It's probably better not to disturb him. He'll rest when he needs it_.

Turning, she makes her way aft to the crew quarters. It isn't until the door hisses shut behind her that she realises how tired she's been. _No. I had some idea,_ she decides. _There were always more important things to do. Stimulants and more stimulants..._ She can feel herself slowing down. _I'm starting to hate that metallic aftertaste..._

She slaps her palm on the light controls and nudges the door shut with a boot in passing. By the time she kicks off her boots, she's tripping into the cot and curling up into its plain grey blanket. Her mind is halfway gone already.

 _I can't remember the last time I slept in a_ bed...

It's her last conscious thought.

* * *

The first thing she's aware of is, _It's too bright in here_.

Then, she thinks, _I didn't want to wake up yet_.

It can't have been more than a few hours. Her eyes feel gritty; her body feels leaden. She might have had bizarre and troubling dreams, an anachronistic jumble of nerves, but she can't remember it.

 _If I don't open my eyes, maybe it'll go away_.

She spends several seconds doggedly ignoring the tug at her subconscious.

It doesn't go away.

 _Bother_ , she thinks, irritably; the curse is accompanied by a vague sensation of not wanting to restart her day just yet. Slowly, she eases her stinging eyes open.

The door is ajar – _I closed that, didn't I?_ – and she squints into the light.

He's leaning against the doorframe with folded arms.

When their eyes meet, he smiles a little, almost shyly. It's enough to banish her mild annoyance. Without being aware, she finds herself returning his expression.

Sitting up, she runs her fingers through sleep-disheveled hair. She hadn't thought to unclip it before collapsing onto the bunk; now it's a frazzled mess, some of it spilling across her face.

 _Self-consciousness,_ she chides herself, and her smile turns crooked. _As though I've any need for that, after all we've been through_. As though he would care about disheveled hair.

"Did the senators contact us?" Her voice is still foggy from sleep.

She yawns as he shakes his head, rubbing at her face. Before her hand covers her eye, she spots him shift to lean his other hip against the doorframe and smile. Eyeing him a little blearily, she arches a brow when that foolish smile of his broadens.

"What is it?"

"You," he says, as though it explains everything. He seems to realise it doesn't, and continues as she squints at him. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked so tired... I wanted to make sure you were able to get a little sleep." He pauses, as though realising something, and his half-mumbled addendum is sheepish. "Sorry if I woke you."

"I'm fine." It's a stock answer; a comfortable lie they're both familiar with. Sitting up straighter, she pulls the blanket along, noting absently that the quarters are cold. She studies him for a moment, staring hard. _He seems relaxed. Maybe he's just tired_. Still, she cants her head slightly to one side at his answer. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked tired, and I wanted to make sure you were able to get a little rest. I..." He flicks one hand, nebulously, but the gesture seems almost nervous. "I don't want to see you uncomfortable, that's all. You've been through a lot."

" _I've_ been through a lot?" She feels a laugh bubbling up, all fatigue and nerves. Before she can scare him with it, she smiles and shakes her head, silencing herself so she can explain. "You're one to talk. You came back from the dead," she points out. "Not exactly something most people are going to do in a lifetime, you know."

You fought Vader," she continues urgently, "and not only did you fight him, but you _won_. You helped, and I quote, to put 'the Emperor's prize thug on a leash.' And as far as I know, you did all of that without ever having time to rest, let alone come to terms with it. If I'm exhausted, you've got to be..." Juno gestures helplessly. _Exhausted_ and _weary_ seem almost insulting in context. "I don't even know."

 _He hasn't even thought about that,_ she decides, watching his thoughtful frown. _He really was searching for me at the cost of everything else. Even himself. Maybe now he can finally rest_.

He crosses the room wearily, with little of his usual liquid grace. Automatically, she pulls her legs out of the way, giving him a place to sit. His breath rushes from him as she does, and she can't help but think of the gesture as unspeakably weary.

"Yeah." He stares distantly at the far wall, frowning. "I did."

"Took a break?" she presses gently, tone carefully light, "or did all of those things?"

"Anything. Everything."

The weariness in his tone and expression makes her heart ache. He blinks as though coming back to himself, and their eyes meet. She reaches up gently, brushing fingertips over his scarred arm. _That_ , at least, is reassuringly similar; her every memory of him involves scars. It would be surreal to imagine him without them.

"I know, Galen." She keeps her tone gentle. "This time, you've won. _We've_ won. We're free, and you're free of Vader. Kota's right. If you'd killed him, you only would have let him win, and let the Dark Side take you. You did the right thing." She gives his arm a reassuring pat. "But we can't afford to focus on the long shadow of the Empire. We're alive – and we can't let them win by living in fear."

He seems to think about it, brows furrowing and eyes slipping out of focus. As he does, she reaches up to lay her hand over his arm, comforting; reassured by the warmth and solidity of him, as though reassuring herself that he's really there. She's not dreaming or hallucinating. He's with her.

 _Something's still bothering him._ Settling her hand over his arm, she runs a thumb over the ridged scarring. Most of them are older, but a few of them feel new. _All I can do is wait. If he's not ready to talk, I'm not going to be able to drag it out of him_.

"Juno..."

She looks up as he says her name, softly, only to close her eyes as she feels his fingers twine into her hair. The gesture is almost clumsy in its caution, as though he were afraid of breaking her. She lets him, though. When had he ever touched another person without intent to hurt them, or kill them?

That she's the one he reaches out to just makes it all the more special to her.

 _He even smells the same._ She doesn't notice she's leaning into his touch until he carefully puts an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright, but she doesn't argue with that, either. _I remember that from over the Death Star, and I remember it from Timira City, too. Even if he's a clone... he's still Galen. He's still the same person I remember and love. How could he be any different? And how could I mistake him for anyone else_?

For a few minutes she thinks she could fall asleep like this – his fingers through her hair, leaning against his side. He's comfortably warm, and there's no place in the galaxy she could feel safer than with his arm around her shoulders. True, with her head tilted that way, she might have a ferocious crick in her neck later, but—

"I talked to him. On Dantooine."

Those six words bring her awake faster than a stimulant.

She sits up quicker than she might like, casting a concerned eye to him. Just thinking about Vader sends something cold crawling down her spine, but she controls herself; for his sake, if nothing else. Yet still...

 _He seems awfully calm_.

"What did he say?" She's proud of how calm and level her voice is. She doesn't feel particularly calm or level. Her question goes unanswered; for a few seconds she wonders if he hadn't heard it.

He sounds thoughtful when he finally does answer.

"He lied."

"Vader always lies." She speaks gently, as though spelling it out for a child. Licking dry lips, she considers. "Everything he says is a lie."

"No. I mean—you're right. He does lie. Lied. That's what Vader does, too, and I'm not going to deny that after everything. But he lied this time by what he _didn't_ say. I asked him whether I was a clone or not. He wouldn't even answer my questions, and I think that's more honest than any lie he could've told me."

She lays her head over his arm again, relaxing only with conscious effort. "What do you think?"

"I think he didn't clone me," he reasons, thoughtful. "You can't clone Force-sensitivity. Kota thinks there might be a chance..."

"That you're not a clone?"

"Yeah." He nods, faintly, careful not to dislodge her. "Kota and I talked to a medic from his squad. He was enslaved with a Khommite in Kessel before Kota freed him, and he learned the theories of cloning from that Khommite. Kota asked him why the Jedi didn't just clone themselves after Order 66 was executed."

"The purging of the Jedi," she says, raising a brow. "Why didn't they? It makes sense, objectively."

"It does, but you can't clone Force-sensitivity."

"Why?" In spite of the sensitive subject, she can feel her curiosity taking root. "What makes it impossible? Hypothetically, you have all of the genetic data, every marker and detail, accounted for. Especially if you're using the genetic template of a Jedi."

He shakes his head, brow furrowing. "Not everything. I don't know what's missing, but _something_ is. Something important. The medic said terrible things happen to Force-sensitive clones."

Without his answer, she has some idea of it. Something about the clones sleeping in their vats in Timira City had seemed somehow... _off_ , to her, although she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Just hearing about it sends a flutter of anxiety dancing down her spine. "What terrible things...?"

"They go mad."

 _Why is he so calm?_ She can feel it in the way he leans against her; no tension to speak of, completely at odds with her own unsettlement. _There's no denying it. He—he was dead. I saw the explosion. And I saw the clones on Kamino. Oh, Galen_.

"Psychosis," he continues, even as she tries to reason the situation through. "Obsession. Violence. Identity crises. The list goes on, and the symptoms don't get any better."

"I don't understand."

"Kota thinks I'm still the _original_. Don't you see?"

She looks up at him, as though not quite daring to believe. _I saw him die. Does he think I'd leave him if he were? Is he doing this because he's_ afraid?

"Even if you were, it wouldn't matter to me," she murmurs.

He laughs.

The sound seems almost relieved.

"Juno, that's just it. I _am_ the same person. Jedi can't be cloned! It just doesn't work. I wouldn't have made it this far if I were one of those clones. I would've lost my mind a lot sooner than this. I don't know what happened, or why, or how I came back. I _remember_ dying. But it did. I'm still _me_. I'm still the same Galen who—"

 _Sacrificed himself for the fledgeling Rebel Alliance_ , she thinks, suddenly disheartened, _whose family crest is now borne by ships halfway across the galaxy. Oh, Galen. You don't have to deny that you're a clone. It doesn't matter to me; you're still the same man that I fell in love with_.

"—fell in love with you," he finishes, even as she completes her thoughts. She doesn't feel particularly reassured when he holds her close. Even so, she can't help a smile as she feels him lean over to press a kiss to her hair. "I'm the same."

 _He's back. He's a clone. Not a clone. Everything and nothing. What does it mean_? There are too many missing details; too many variables introduced by Vader's lies. _That's the only constant, isn't it? Vader lies. Vader always lies_...

"Galen, I saw you die," she says, softly.

"I remember the explosion. It was a roar so loud I... I'm not even sure how to describe it. I think I did die, at least for a little while. I don't know how I survived it. Was it the Force? Or was it something else? Did someone save me from the Death Star after Vader and the Emperor left?" He shakes his head, even as he pulls her close. "I don't think I'm ever going to know. I don't know if I _want_ to know."

"Some things are better left as mysteries."

"Whatever happened, I survived. I don't know how I did it, but I'm alive. We're both alive," he adds, looking down to her.

"That's right." She sighs, but this time out of contentment. "We are."

Silence falls again, and she's content to let it stretch for a few moments. Eventually, though, she looks up to him again, noting how exhausted he seems; leaning against the wall just to stay partly upright where he sits.

"At least get some rest while we're here, Galen," she murmurs. Taking a loose fistful of his sleeve, she gives it a tug to get his attention. "We have a little time before the senators contact the _Rogue Shadow_. You need to rest as much as I do. I've got a feeling this is the only time we'll have to ourselves for a while."

"Mmn." It's a quiet sound of what she thinks is protest, but when she tugs at his sleeve again, he looks to her for a second or two. After a few seconds more he sighs, carefully settling in beside her.

 _He's not just tired, but_ exhausted _. I can feel it_. Before she can soothe him, his arm folds around her, holding her close. She can't help a contented sigh. _I wish we had more time like this—_

She's about to settle against him, still weary, when he gently catches her wrist in his hand. Drawing it up, he studies it with furrowed brow. "What happened?" He's staring intently at a faded white line on her hand; an old scar, some engineering mishap. "I don't remember that."

"Hm?" She glances down at it, dismissive. "Oh. I was doing a little work on the Salvation. Something must've distracted me, and I cut my hand. It's nothing."

"I missed so much." With a look of disappointment he releases her hand. "I'm sorry, Juno."

"For what? Your—your sacrifice bought us all the time we needed to live." She swallows the lump in her throat. _Even now, even with him back, it still hurts_. "You did what you believed in. What you needed to do."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"You didn't." She smiles through the pain. "I was proud of you, Galen. I was so proud."

"And now? Even after I practically turned my back on the Rebellion?"

"How did you—"

"Kota wanted me to fight. Earlier; before Kamino."

"I think he just wanted you to come shake everyone back into line," she confesses, with a chuckle. "I admit, part of me had wanted that, too. Sometimes it seemed like you were the only one who could..."

"Seemed like Kota was doing a pretty good job of that."

"General Kota is reckless."

"And I'm not?"

"You are," she concedes, but not without a laugh. "General Kota is different. When it's you, people sit up and take notice. They see the things you can do, and that has an effect on them... you're inspiring. While General Kota is an effective member of the Rebel Alliance, I'm not sure he's exactly inspiring to most of the people in it." Juno laughs, softly. "Oh, his victories are inspiring, I'm sure, but I imagine most of these people still see him as a liability. I've had to cover for him on more than one occasion."

"He's not all bad. Kota was actually pretty helpful to me while I was looking for you, although he was more insistent that I help the Rebel Alliance," he muses, unconsciously nuzzling into her hair. She can't help but smile at the thoughtless and slightly clumsy gesture, pleased to her very core by the contentment it brings. "I said I had to find you first."

"And now you have. You told the others you'd fight for the Rebel Alliance again." Twisting slightly, she glances up, fixing him with a sympathetic look. "Is that what you really want, though? I don't want to force you into it, and I'll understand if that isn't what _you_ want to do..."

"No. It is, I think." His voice sounds distant.

"You think so? Galen, you know I don't want to drag you into anything you're not comfortable with, but—"

"I'm comfortable with it."

 _Comfortable_. She looks up to him, just as he looks down. Their eyes meet, and she studies him for a long moment, searching. _Comfort is one thing, while there's a brief respite in the campaigning. But will he still want to carry the rebel torch when we're placed into danger again? Will he be so accepting, then_?

"Of course I will." He smiles, gently.

She almost shivers. Had he understood what she was _thinking_? Or had he simply anticipated what she might say? Part of her thinks that kind of thing will always unsettle her, but she pushes her unease aside, allowing herself a faint smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Even when we could simply... go, and forget all of this?" _Would you abandon the very Rebel Alliance that you yourself created_?

He's silent for long enough that she thinks he might be seriously considering it. Eventually, he shakes his head, and she's grateful for the warmth when he tightens his arms around her. "Vader's still out there," he says softly. "Kota was right. If I kill him, he'll haunt me forever... but I can't run away, either. I... I needed some time to think things through clearly, and I think I have, now. My place is with you – but it's also with the Rebel Alliance, I think. How many other people has he trampled over?"

She can't help an upwelling of pride. _I was hopping that's what you'd say_. Not just to be content to let Vader live, but to do the right thing, after all. They both have reason enough to stand tall and defy the Galactic Empire; betrayed, both, and then the injustices personally visited upon them by Vader. _And if that story can ever be told to the rebels... I think it'd be an inspiration to them all. I hope it can be, someday_...

Looking up, she notes him watching her, with a faint smile. "What?"

"Nothing," he murmurs, tightening his arms and drawing her close. "I'm just glad."

"So am I."

Silence settles about them, and she almost feels like letting herself drift. She's still tired, so very tired, and sleeping like this is about the most secure and comfortable place she can imagine. Unbidden, a memory returns to her—

 _Then I guess I'll never have to live this down_.

She laughs, softly; unable to help herself.

"Juno?" He looks at her questioningly, brow furrowing. "What's so funny?"

"I just remembered something."

His brow only furrows even more, completely lost. "What?"

Twisting, she slips an arm around his neck to pull him down – and presses her lips to his. She feels him startle at first, but she's heartened by how quickly he leans into it; how quickly he pulls her closer, returning the kiss with some eagerness.

By the time she pulls away, winded, he dips his head to rest his face against hers.

"I have to wonder what you remembered to bring that on," he murmurs. "What was that all about...?"

She laughs, breathlessly.

"I guess I'm going to have to live it down after all."

She's still laughing even as he kisses her again.


End file.
